Monster
by Inhumunculus
Summary: We cried together for a while, wishing for all this pain to go away. The pain of being confined, the pains of seeing someone starve, the pain of being betrayed, the pain of knowing we could do nothing about it. But most of all, we cried for a monster.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is something I wrote last summer when I was really angry for some reason. I did not know what to do so I wrote this to vent my anger. I do not normally write angst stories, so this will officially be my first. **

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He came in a little after one in the morning. I had not slept much and I could hear him coming. His near bare feet, one encased in a cut sock, similar to my won, pattered on the stone floor of the basement, to the prison in which I now reside. I could distinctly make out his small figure, outlined in the blue of the moon. He peered in at me as if he were a looking into an animal cage, staring with those big lavender eyes. My own, sunk in from lack of sufficient cuisine, stared back, searching his eyes for amusement, disgust, and . . .

Pity?

Yes. Pity was there. I raised my head up slightly, meeting his stare. Strange, no one had ever pitied me before. All I have gotten since my outburst was being locked in here. And it was here that resentment and hate seduced me into a slow decline into insanity. I have not known any other emotion other than those I have birthed, but this one, unexplored and alien, caught me off guard. I did not like it.

I got up from my belly, long worn thin, to a sitting position. My head was turned away from him and towards the window – my only scrap of light and air.

"What?" I said, an edge in my once-smooth voice. That urge to attack. I could feel it scratching in my heart, a sudden loss of all control of that hate. And it was all because _he_ was there, watching, scrutinizing, . . . and judging.

Wrath said nothing, but looked down and shuffled his feet. My head fell against the cold wall and sighed. Was this all I have become: a side attraction and marvel to be stared at by little kids in the dead of night? I should have been used to the shameful attention, but with each visit from those whom I had called kin only festered my loathing.

Wrath pulled something from behind his back. It was a bowl full of bread slices, a few grapes, meat, and cheese. My mouth watered at the food. Great, he was tempting me. I had not eaten in a while – maybe three days or so. If I were human, I would have died by now. But I was a Homunculus. I'm made of sterner stuff.

A flash of bluish light sparked and a gap melted in the metal of the bars. Wrath slipped in through the gap, keeping the food close to his chest. He used alchemy to melt a hole in the bars. I instantly perked up at this. A hole meant an escape. And an escape meant freedom. I got up off the floor, my legs barely able to support my decreased body weight. I started forward, focused on my opportunity to get away. I didn't care if Wrath was in my way or not. If he would try to stop me, he would suffer for it.

I pushed my way past him, spilling some of the grapes on the dirty floor of the cell.

"Nii-san," he said quietly. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. He started calling me that not too long after he saw me when I first came here. I looked the phrase up and he was actually calling me his sister. A painful twinge pulsed through my gut. I did not need this. Not when I am so close!

"Don't wait up," I growl. I could not stand it any longer. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and just hurt him. He was part of _her_. She, who had trapped me down here, who had taken me away from the rogue life I had wallowed in. In my mind, if I hurt him I would be hurting her – my one and only wish.

I sauntered forward again, but was stopped when Wrath got in front of me. He offered me a slice of bread and my stomach roared. I wanted so badly to appease it. I have dreamt of the all the things I used to be fed – red stones included – and of the day when I would get it all back.

However, I wanted the taste of freedom more.

My inherited ability still answered my call. I could slip easily to every one of them – _all the others!_ – and slice their throats. I know they would only heal, but that was the beauty of it – I could continue over, and over, and over, and over again!

I gazed from Wrath to the bread and back again. He was silently pleading for me not to leave. I hardened my eyes, showing him he was not the only one who mastered anger.

"Move," I ordered him.

Wrath shook his head. "No, I'm not letting you leave." He was on the verge of tears now. The hate grew.

I sized him up, narrowing my eyes. "Move, now!"

The boy jumped to his feet, the bowl of tasty morsels slipping from his hands. I couldn't help but grin inwardly. The rage, that thing he was named for, danced like fire in the crystalline pools of violet. "No! You're not going!"

I lost it. "I said MOVE!!!!" I backhanded him, hard, and he went spiraling. I punched his face, kicked his stomach and overall began beating him. At one point I must have bit him because I remember blood on my tongue. I backed away from the wounded and crying boy, slowly realizing what I had just done.

I dropped to me knees, baldy shaken. Is this what I have become: a desperate prisoner picking on little kids? The thought made me sick to my stomach. My bloody hands trembled and burning tears dotted my eyes. He was just trying to help. He brought me food because he knew I was starving. He gave me comfort where I had none. What sort of person – sane or not – would reject such kindness? The supports of my knees buckled and the structure of my body collapsed, my atrocities sinking in like white-hot needles. I was not a Homunculus. I was not even human! I was a monster.

I got up, shaking me head. "I . . . I can't stay here. I need to leave. I need to leave for both our sakes." I turned around when something slammed into my back. The wind was nearly knocked out of me. His bruised arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, squeezing, as if his hold would keep me form leaving.

"No!" wet sobs drenched the ridges of my spine, washing both flesh and bone clean. "I don't want you to! That was an accident! You didn't mean it! I know you didn't! Don't go! Please! Nii-san!"

I was frozen in place. Inside, my heart was bleeding. It was slowly being ripped apart, each beat was a testimony to that. He was killing me. He forgave me and he was killing me. I didn't deserve this kind of affection. I wasn't worth it. I just kicked the stuffing out of him and here he was forgiving me, claiming it was an accident, that I didn't mean it. My head was swimming. I didn't know what to do.

"Please," he whispered. He held my middle tighter. "Don't go."

I tried to turn around in his grip, shifting so that I could have some room. I got down on one knee and pulled him into a squeezing hug. He hugged me back, wrapping his bleeding arms around my ribs. My head fell forward to be caught in the crutch of the child's shoulder.

We cried together for a long while, just wishing for all this pain to go away.

The pain of being confined, the pains of seeing someone starve, the pain of being betrayed, the pain of knowing you can do nothing about it.

But most of all . . .

We cried for the pain of a monster.

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**AN: Like or dislike? It does not really matter. Reviews would be nice, if you please. **


	2. Subliminal Message

**To all who have read this, **

**There is a little mistake in the way of Nii-san and the word "sister" in there. This story was a originally a WrathXOC story, but I scrapped the idea and made it a WrathXEnvy. I missed that one word and forgot to change it to "brother". I fully believe Envy is a boy and is not Wrath's sister. Thank you for taking the time to read this and figure that out. **

**Sincerely,**

**Inhumunculus (aka Valor). **


	3. By My Hands

My fist slams into Wrath's jaw once more. A spurt of blood erupts from his jaw and I can't help but stare blankly, my eyes glazed over with a haze. I don't know how long I've been beating him. It must have been a good while now. His blood is literally all over my hands, dripping like crimson rain across my knuckles and fingertips. Heavy pools of purple blotch his face and I am senseless to his pain. I don't feel anything.

I'm numb.

An empty shell.

Wrath tries to scream, tries cry for Sloth or anyone else who might hear him, but I silence him with another punch aimed straight at his nose. No one can hear him anyways. I made a point before that we would be the only ones in the mansion today. More blood rushes and I keep punching. I don't know what I'm doing nor do I care. I've lost all feeling a long time ago. I no longer feel remorse, sadness or regret.

I'm hollow.

I pause for the briefest of seconds and examine the various bruises, lines of blood, and other marks of my handiwork. I breathe hard as I take it all in. Never have I thought I would be doing such horrific things, especially to a little kid, to a fellow homunculus – to my brother. I swallow but feel nothing slither down my throat. It's parched, dry as the desert sands.

I truly am hollow.

Wrath, whimpering, frightened, looks up at me through a swollen eye. His eyes are questioning me. Why? Why I'm doing these things to him? Why I'm not coming to my senses and stopping? Why I'm still holding him, pinning him against the now blood-spattered wall and holding up my crimson fist ready to strike. And am I deriving some sort of pleasure from from his pain?

I don't have an answer. I never did. I don't know the motive behind my needless assault. I don't know what possessed me to relentlessly pummel my younger brother without so much as one tear shed.

"Why?" Wrath squeezes out finally. He raises a hand and my senses go on high alert. His palm touches the top of my trembling fist, the one clutched firmly around the collar of his shirt. "Why are you doing this? What's happened to you, Envy? Why did you change? What made you become like this? Where's the brother I met that day in Central? Where is he, Envy?"

"I don't know," I say. My fist is still in the air, but I barely feel it. My body has gone numb. The urge to completely murder him takes over and I lose it. "I don't know why! I don't have an answer!"

My fist connects with his jaw and I see the blood once again. Wrath's crying now, but his cries only spurs on my assault. I want to see him dead, I realize. That's the only reason I can conclude. Even after a few months ago, when I had beaten Wrath after he tried to make me stay with the other homunculi, I've lost my mind. And now all I want to see Wrath – my own brother – die by my hands.

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**AN: why is it that whenever i feel really evil and psychotic i take it out on Wrath? Seriously, he's like a punching bag! Just stands there and takes it! **


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